The Sasquatch! Festival-- now in its sixth year-- is one of the most well-planned and organized music festivals in the U.S. While many other fests offer the chance to watch an overwhelmingly large lineup while sweating in the desert or encourage you to chase the next-big-thing all over a city at hard-to-get-into showcases, Sasquatch is much more manageable in both size (they only have three stages going at once) and setting. In fact, its host venue, with its nature-made main-stage amphitheater and dramatic canyon- and river-views, is breathtaking. Everything from the ease of the parking to the proximity of the three stages to each another was designed to make concert-going a breeze.

Unfortunately, though, you know what they say about the best-laid plans.
Some of the troubles I experienced at this year's Sasquatch were my own fault (i.e. getting lost en route from Portland and missing several of the early bands-- including the Hold Steady, the Blow, and Blitzen Trapper), but many were simply unavoidable and faultless. M.I.A. was scratched the lineup in the week leading up to the fest due to Visa problems. On Day Two, main-stage host Sarah Silverman was a no-show (festival organizers said she was sick). Several performers, from side-stage host Aziz Ansari to Tokyo Police Club, missed flights that led them to practically be rushed onstage as soon as they arrived. And, in the biggest story of the festival, halfway through the second day, a brutal wind whipped through the canyon, dangerously shaking lighting rigs and forcing schedule changes, shorter sets, and massive delays.

But despite all of those setbacks, Sasquatch-- which seemed to attract just as many dreadlocked Bonnaroo hippies as tattooed indie rockers-- soldiered on. Yes, the weather was uncooperative, and sure, the lineup was a little same-y (no hip-hop, few deviations from guitar-centric indie rock). But would I fly 3,000 miles across the country again to watch bands perform against clay-red rocky peaks and a silvery river while I sat in the grass nursing a beer? Absolutely. Next time I'd just bring a warmer jacket.

Neko Case [Sasquatch! Mainstage, 3:40 p.m.]
Last year when she performed at Sasquatch, Case was the performer who bore the brunt of the mercurial Washington spring weather, when a sudden hailstorm interrupted her set. This year, playing on the main stage as the sun shone and temperatures hovered around 80, she was much luckier. I was pleased to make it to the site in time to see her because, as owner of one of the richest, sultriest voices in music today, she is the sort of performer who deserves the clarion acoustics of the natural amphitheater. Though she was missing her bass player, who had recently been in a car accident, spare, twangy versions of songs like "Maybe Sparrow" worked as showcases for her show-stopping vocals.

Viva Voce [Yeti Stage, 3:15 p.m.]

Admittedly, I only caught one song by Portland's Viva Voce, but luckily, it was their version of the Alan Parsons Project's "Eye in the Sky," which recently appeared on their hometown-centric
Bridging the Distance
compilation. Live, it is striking to see Anita Robinson, with her whispery, mysterious vocals, wielding such a mammoth two-neck guitar. Also, who knew APP were so awesome?

Ghostland Observatory [Wookie Stage, 4:40 p.m.]

With keyboardist/beatsmith Thomas Turner looking like a glam Count Chocula in his baby blue cape with a giant cross on the back, and singer/guitarist Aaron Behrens playing all the way to back of the packed meadow with his theatrical pointing and pelvic thrusting, this Austin band's belching, synth-heavy electro was a highlight of the day. Despite the power outage that interrupted their set just as it was began to cook, the guys weren't thrown, digging back into another blistering song as soon as they could. "Sometimes things don't go the way you want, but they go they way they go," said Behrens from the stage. It could've been the mantra for the weekend.

Grizzly Bear [Wookie Stage, 5:50 p.m.]

I wasn't sure that a rowdy, outdoor festival setting was the best place for Grizzly Bear's otherworldly harmonies and hushed, intricately layered symphonies, but they played well to a crowd of blissed-out sunbathers. The honey-dipped harmonies and floating guitar arrangements scored the pre-dusk hour well, as songs like "Knife" erupted like sunbursts in the outdoor setting. You know it's a hot ticket when Patrick Wolf, decked out in a stage-worthy outfit of red kneesocks and shorts like a naughty private-school boy, was wandering amongst the riff-raff at the front of the stage to catch the show, even who though he didn't perform until the next afternoon.

Beastie Boys (instrumental) [Wookie Stage, 7:15 p.m.]
The Boys from Brooklyn owned this festival. Between this instrumental performance, headlining the main stage on Sunday, and the solo shows by Beastie sidemen Mixmaster Mike and Money Mark, something at least tangentially related to the band seemed to be playing at all times. But this was the set to catch. The new songs they debuted off of their forthcoming album,
The Mix-Up
, didn't seem to be the wiry post-punk homage we'd been promised; instead, "Electric Worm" and "Suco De Tangerina" included enough wakka-wakka guitars and funky basslines to force my traveling companion to dub them "gyration-inducing sex ditties." So no loss there. (Even Jimmy Kimmel and Sarah Silverman, who watched from backstage, seemed to be getting into it, standing arm-in-arm and rubbing each other's shoulders.) The old gems they whipped out for this performance, from "Sure Shot" to "Sabotage", benefited from their instrumental arrangements. And, as is often the case with a Beastie's set, their between-song banter ("I wrote three albums last night at the Red Roof.") was the best of the fest.

The Arcade Fire [Sasquatch! Mainstage, 9:15 p.m.]

I can think of no band more suited to scoring the majestic purple dusk falling over the mountains than Arcade Fire. Festival organizers estimate that almost all of the 22,000 tickets to Sasquatch were sold and I estimate that every single one of those ticket holders was nestled into the mountain as the band and their myriad instruments played into the evening. Though Will Butler accidentally fell off the stage about four songs in (he was ok and able to finish the set), everything else-- from the opening evangelical video to the grandiose sound of the organ on "Intervention"-- was pitch perfect. It was like visiting a revival tent, but everyone was testifying in the church of Arcade Fire. Win Butler even dedicated "Antichrist Television Blues" to Jerry Falwell, "wherever the fuck he is."

Björk [Sasquatch! Mainstage, 11 p.m.]

Barefoot and dressed in a billowing gold dress, Björk kicked her set off with a stomping version of "Earth Intruders", and though she tried out other songs from
Volta
(including an Antony-less version of "The Dull Flame of Desire"), the biggest cheers of the evening were for classic cuts like "Joga" and "Hyperballad". As on her recent tour, she was joined onstage by an Icelandic woman's brass choir, who seemed to have flags growing from their heads. But their instruments added a visceral tang to the arrangements-- especially the older hits. "All Is Full Of Love" was the makeout anthem of the festival: As soon as it began, four couples around me started slow dancing, and the ones I passed nestled into the hillside, wrapped in blankets were all kissing. I think Björk would have approved.

Sunday, May 27:

The Blakes [Yeti Stage, 12 p.m.]

One of the pleasant surprises of the festival were the Blakes, a Seattle trio who recently signed to Light in the Attic Records. The group blended Dandy Warhols-ish swampy guitars, twitchy Strokes rhythms, and power-pop vocal harmonies, offering an energetic and unmannered romp through modern rock radio. With messy arrangements and a theatrical drummer fond of the both-sticks-in-the-air poses, their bluesy-cool rock brought a bit of a dirty nightclub vibe to the sunny (if already very windy) afternoon.

Earl Greyhound [Wookie Stage, 1:10 p.m.]

New York's Earl Greyhound promised to "rock [our] ever-loving faces off" as soon as they took the stage, and they did exactly what they set out to do. Their clothes-- embroidered shirts, feathers in the hair, fringed suede boots-- and acid rock riffs recalled the festival-going of another era. Though they have a few organ ballads, they are at their best when Matt Whyte coaxes distortion filled solos from his guitar and the fierce rhythm section of Kamara Thomas and Ricc Sheridan lay down heavy, syrupy grooves. The crowd was enthusiastic, applauding every solo. And despite the band's stomp and swagger, they seemed genuinely touched that the audience liked them so much.

Patrick Wolf [Wookie Stage, 2:20 p.m.]

Patrick Wolf's theatrical set was the best of the weekend. The audience-- some of whom camped out before Earl Greyhound to get good spots-- had dressed for their hero, as I was surrounded by girls in glittering fairy wings, boys with dyed orange hair, and even one woman in a Ren Fair-ish corset. Wolf didn't disappoint. He played so many instruments himself (including viola, violin, piano, guitar, and Theremin-- often more than one during the same song) that it's amazing that he found time to crawl dramatically across the ground, mug for photos, and prowl the edge of the stage. It was also surprising that at such a lefty festival, it took this Englishman to actually make the first political statements. He dedicated "Blackbird" to "all of the ladies who want to take off their veils and all of the men who don't want to fight anymore." While he seduced with his disco cabaret torch songs, he also apologized for not having many happy songs on such a sunny day. I don't think the crowd minded.

Money Mark
[Wookie Stage, 3:30 p.m.
]
I didn't mean to catch this Beastie Boy keyboard player's set; I was simply waiting for Tokyo Police Club to get started. Money Mark was going for a Stax Records vibe, but sadly every song just sounded like Fastball's "Out of My Head" to me. Luckily, his proficient backing band was entertaining. It was worth it to sit through the whole set just to see the bassist duck-walking on the speakers.

Tokyo Police Club [Wookie Stage, 4:45 p.m.]

Another highlight. These Canadian youngsters (ok, they're 20 now) have come a long way since releasing their 2006 EP. Expectedly, they opened their set with their theme song, "Cheer It On", which got the crowd fist-pumping in the air and singing along. What makes this band work isn't just good songs and twitchy rhythms; it's their infectious enthusiasm. Though Graham Wright is tethered to his keyboards, he doesn't allow them to hinder his spastic energy. He literally pulses with it, stomping his feet and kicking his heels up as he lurches at his synths or shakes his tambourine frantically. It's hard not to be won over by that kind of overwhelming energy, so the packed side-stage audience clapped along un-selfconsciously the whole time.

Spoon [Sasquatch! Mainstage, 5:40 p.m.]

Ok, here's where things started to go awry. Four songs into the Polyphonic Spree's set, they were cut short because of the massive mounting winds that were shaking the stage's light rigs. Spoon, who were scheduled to go on 5:40 were the next band to play, but due to the wind advisory, they didn't take the stage until 8:03. Michael Franti & Spearhead, who were supposed to play after them, got moved to the Wookie stage so that the evening's headliners could finish by midnight. Spoon's set was understandably short-- they were offstage by 8:44-- to accommodate the headliners, but they played well, giving the by-this-time-freezing crowd old favorites ("Jonathan Fisk", "The Way We Get By") as well as introducing them to songs off the forthcoming
Ga Ga Ga Ga Ga
. Perhaps spurred on by the bitter winds, the songs seemed faster than usual and Britt Daniel didn't banter at all ("We're called Spoon," was all he said). But the appreciative audience didn't mind.

Interpol [Sasquatch! Mainstage, 8:45 p.m.]

Though the band obviously goes best with darkness, the late spring sunset forced Interpol onstage against dusk. The usually dapper quartet (augmented by a touring keyboard player) looked like four members of different bands. Paul Banks, in a jacket, scarf and beanie to protect against the cold, looked like an American Mike Skinner; Carlos D was rocking his new cowboy-dandy look and Daniel Kessler and Sam Fogarino, who clearly didn't get the wardrobe-change messages, were in their usual black suits. The band has perfected their old songs (especially those off of
Turn on the Bright Lights
) over years of touring, which makes them sound tight, if a little boring and over-practiced. But debuting new material like "The Heinrich Maneuver" and "Mammoth", which still sound unsure live, the band proved that it was more than just their look that had changed. Though they were once mannered, sharp imitations of stylish icons, they are now a muddled, mismatched bunch.

Beastie Boys [Sasquatch! Mainstage, 10:30 p.m.]

By the time the Beastie Boys went on for their main stage headlining set, it was downright freezing and most of the crowd (myself included) were dressed inappropriately for the weather. That must explain why the Gorge, which was so full for Arcade Fire and Björk the night before, seemed strangely half full. The top levels of the amphitheater were sparse, but the die-hard fans had filled the lower levels and wouldn't be deterred by a little wind. Unfortunately, this set was no match for their earlier instrumental one. They got the whole hillside on their feet with hits like "Body Moving", "Pass the Mic", and "Sabotage", but their more elaborate set-up didn't allow for the looseness of their previous night's set. After the high of the instrumental set, which crackled with spontaneous energy, this was large, practiced, and crowd-pleasing, but not particularly special.